


I Need Somebody

by Anon6285_omo (Anonymous6285)



Series: Beatles Omorashi [34]
Category: Nowhere Boy (2009), The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Wetting, teddy boy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:14:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24766780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous6285/pseuds/Anon6285_omo
Summary: George is too shy to ask for the toilet while over at Paul's house.
Series: Beatles Omorashi [34]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1612729
Kudos: 9





	I Need Somebody

George squirmed around on the bed as he and John and Paul watched whatever show was on. He had been avoiding asking for the loo the entire time he was over at Paul’s house, because he was far too shy to just speak up. 

But as time went on, and his need to piss got worse and worse until he was focusing all his brain power on not letting small leaks out. God knew even the tiniest bit would lead to an unstoppable stream. 

And suddenly it occurred to him that he was about to piss on Paul’s bed. There was no way he would ever live that down, not to mention how angry Paul would be at him, too. 

He stood up, and with a shaky voice said, “Paul, w-where’s your loo?”

“You’ll find it,” the older boy replied, preoccupied with the show. George blushed and left the room, but when he got into the hall, all of the doors were closed. When a spurt of pee escaped him, he flung open the one closest to him, finding a linen closet. 

He started to freak out and opened another door to an empty bedroom. He cursed under his breath, feeling his underwear getting damp. He opened another door, another closet, and his bladder started to empty.

“Oh, god, oh, fuck.” As a wet spot spread further down his pants, he opened two more doors and finally found the toilet, slipping inside and slamming the door shut. He was now peeing near full force into his jeans, and he tugged at the zipper.

After a few seconds, he gave up on the zipper and just pulled the pants down over his hips, finishing in the toilet. But when he was done, relief wasn’t even close to the embarrassment he felt burning at his cheeks. He took his pants and underwear off, frantically trying to think of what he was supposed to do.

He started to wring them out in the sink, drops of piss falling into the sink, and his hands began to shake involuntarily. God, what was he supposed to do about this? Surely, he couldn’t just wait in here while his pants dried. 

He stopped trying to dry them and sat down naked on the toilet seat, putting his face in his hands. And that’s where he sat until there was a knock on the door.

“George?” It was Mike. “Paul wanted me to make sure you hadn’t died. You’ve been gone a while.”

George was about to ask for him to get his older brother, but if he did that, John would probably come with him, and he didn’t think he really wanted either of them figuring this out, either. So instead, he asked, “Mike, c-could you get your dad?”

“My dad?” George nodded not realising that Mike couldn’t see him, and the younger boy spoke again. “Erm, alright…”

Mike left the toilet and went downstairs, peeking his head into the living room, where Jim sat in his chair, his newspaper covering his face. He lowered it when he heard soft footsteps. “Hey, Mike. Everything alright?”

“Erm, George wants you…”

“Who the hell is George?”

“Paul’s friend,” Mike responded, crossing the room to get to the kitchen.

“I thought that was John…”

“Yeah, he’s got a few over.”

Jim grunted as he stood. “I’ll go see what he wants, then. Where is he?”

“Toilet,” Mike said nonchalantly, and Jim got a bit worried. He set the paper down and hurried up the stairs, knocking on the door. George startled from the other side.

“Hey, George, is it?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Everything okay in there? Mike said you needed me.” When the boy said nothing, not knowing how he was supposed to make himself talk. “George?”

“M-Mr. McCartney, I’m really sorry, b-but I’ve… I’ve wet myself.”

“You what?” he asked, a bit confused. Wasn’t the kid almost fifteen?

“I c-couldn’t find the toilet, I’m sorry--” He sobbed, and Jim took a deep breath. The poor boy definitely wasn’t joking. He was really crying about it.

“Erm… no, it’s alright.”

“Sir, I don’t… I don’t want my parents to know. O-or John…”

“Okay. I can go grab some of Paul’s clothes for you and wash yours, yeah?” George let out a relieved sigh. As horrible as it was to admit all of this, it was good to know the man wasn’t going to ridicule him for it. “Do you want me to go ahead and take your clothes for you?”

George opened the door and held them out to him. “Thank you, Mr. M-McCartney.”

“No problem, kiddo. I’ll have Paul get you some clothes, okay? And, er, there are some wipes under the sink if you don’t want to have a shower.”

Jim balled the clothes up so that it wasn’t obvious how cold and wet they really were. And he poked his head into his oldest son’s room, causing both boys inside to turn their heads at him.

“Dad? Did you see George out there? He hasn’t come back yet.”

“Erm, yeah, he’s out here. Can I talk to you real quick?”

Paul’s playful smile fell nervously. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, I just need to talk to you real quick.” Paul got up off his bed, and John focused his attention back on the television.

When the two of them were back out of the room, Paul looked confusedly at his dad. “Yeah, what is it?”

“Your friend had an, er… he didn’t make it to the toilet on time, and he needs a pair of pants.” The boy said nothing, not believing a thing his dad said. “Paul, please. He won’t fit in Mike’s.”

“Erm… yeah, okay. Just pants?” Jim checked the clothes he was holding. “Oh, er, underwear, too, then?”

“Yeah, I suppose. Just bring them to the toilet for him. I’ve got to go wash his pants so they can start drying and he can wear them home. Oh, and please don’t tell your other friend about this.” Jim walked down the hall and stairs, and Paul went back into his room to get his friend some pants. John saw what he was doing.

“Macca? What’re you doing, then?”

“Just, erm, laundry day…”

He snuck out of the room again and knocked on the door to the bathroom. “Geo?”

“Paul?” he replied. “W-what--?”

“I brought you some pants to change into. I heard what happened.” There was no reply. “Look, I’m sorry I was an arse when I didn’t just tell you where the toilet was. I was being really rude, and I feel horrible. B-but, I got you some jeans, so…”

The door cracked open, George’s head and shoulders poking out. “I-it’s alright. I’m sorry I didn’t speak up before I was on the verge of pissing myself.”

“It’s fine. It can be kind of scary in a new house.” He handed the pants over. “I won’t tell John. Promise. Just get dressed, and you can come back and watch tv with us. Like it never even happened, yeah?”

George smiled. “Y-yeah, okay. Thanks, Paul. I really appreciate it.”

“It’s no problem at all. Hope you’re feeling a bit better. See ya in a few.” He slipped away from the door, and George shut it back.


End file.
